


i hear you're living out of state (running in a whole new scene)

by andfinallywearehome



Category: Wizards vs Aliens
Genre: Gen, Post canon, blink-and-you-miss-it mentions of other characters, fics about lexi? we're returning to scheduled programming now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andfinallywearehome/pseuds/andfinallywearehome
Summary: all you have is the peeling blue paint that covers the walls, growing lighter and lighter in the grey light of the early morning.(or, human lexi and a day that came after that)





	i hear you're living out of state (running in a whole new scene)

**Author's Note:**

> keep the pace, this is all in second person lowercase. i love my true trash aesthetic.
> 
> title is from anya marina's Satellite Heart, and i own nothing.

**12.00am - _midnight_**

 

you’re cold, but you wish it was colder.

you’ve taken to this habit recently, sitting out on the fire escape in the night time rain, because it’s so much easier to catch a glimpse the stars from here. that’s the thing about the city: there’s so much light, always, spilling over into the streets, to the point where you could have looked up to the sky and seen nothing but the dark. once, a long time ago, you were sure that you could look up and name every star in the sky. you’ve long-since grown out of _that_ little fantasy, but maybe some small, hidden away part thinks that if you could just see those stars again, just get _one_ clear view, you could do it. you could defy the odds.

again.

maybe.

 

**4.40am - _sunrise_**

 

you wake as if shaken, and think, for a moment of half madness, that you’re still dying, that someone is there with you.

it only takes a moment for you to come to your senses and then slump back against the pillow, watching the trails of light caught on the ceiling change and move as the sun starts to climb higher in the sky.

maybe it wasn’t that someone was _here_ , you think after a few minutes - hours? - of contemplation; maybe it was that someone was _out there_ , reaching for you -

\- but there’s no one out there, no one looking for you. all you have is the peeling blue paint that covers the walls, growing lighter and lighter in the grey light of the early morning.

really, you should have made peace with that by now.

 

**12.00pm - _midday_**

 

you take the scissors from the craft box sitting on your kitchen counter and cut your hair over the bathroom sink.

it’s been in the way for far too long now, just hanging around your face with no purpose. you’re forever having to push it out of your eyes when you’re trying to concentrate; it’s a wonder you haven’t lost enough patience to do this before.

you don’t go as short as you once wore - you’re starting to think that you've had more than enough of trying to reclaim something that’s already gone - but it tumbles to a stop around your jaw, just enough to frame your face, and somehow, as you stand in front of the mirror and stare at the tufts of blonde hair that now line the sink, you’re feeling more like yourself than you’ve been feeling for months.

in all of the madness, there is this one, small moment of normal.

 

**4.30pm - _postmeridan_**

 

there are glasses in the sink and a vase of daffodils on the counter as you eat dinner with your son.

you’re not the best in the kitchen, or at remembering that your body actually _needs_ food now, but you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter how small, and you’re not about to start, not now. at the end of the day, you figure, cooking, food, flavours - all of it is a science. science is your element. you know how to handle science.

smiling with all of that childhood innocence, your son sits at the counter and compliments you on your attempt at making bolognese. it feels like a small victory.

 

**9.08pm - _sunset_**

 

you linger by the kitchen window as the day draws to a close, watching the colours of the sunset paint the sky different hues of pink and orange.

it’s not quite the stars, but you think, perhaps, that it will suffice for now.

**Author's Note:**

> i've accepted the fact that i'm becoming a stan account for this dumb show now. it's inevitable.


End file.
